


Exposed

by daeneryssed



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, C2E92 SPOILERS OKAY, Critical Role Spoilers, Drabble, F/M, Gen, POV Caleb Widogast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22385968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daeneryssed/pseuds/daeneryssed
Summary: **SPOILERS FOR CAMPAIGN 2, EPISODE 92**Don’t look, he told himself, don’t look.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 10
Kudos: 96





	Exposed

**Author's Note:**

> We all wanted him to look at Jester. WE ALL DID. 
> 
> ASHLEY JOHNSON WE NEED TO HAVE A TALK.
> 
> I just wrote this on the fly right after the episode; apologies for any errors!

“Do you love her?”

It didn’t register at first. He simply continued to stare at Yasha, the words swimming in his mind but making little sense, until they began to click, one word at a time, the immensity of the question that had been posed to him looming larger, and larger, and larger in his mind until it consumed the entirety of his thoughts.

She couldn’t know. There was no way. He had- he had been so careful-

“Who?”

He was barely able to choke out his response, the rising panic in him causing his throat muscles to constrict painfully. She _couldn’t_ know-

“I don’t need to tell you who,” came the whispered reply.

She knew.

She knew.

_She knew, she knew, she knew_ -

Caleb’s breath began to quicken, the familiar panic seizing him and making it difficult to breathe, the blood pounding in his ears almost drowning out Yasha’s next words. She looked guilty, or was it disgust, or was it-

“Uh, I’m sorry, I-”

Caleb forced himself to stay calm, to listen, to _not look_ -

“-As someone who has lost someone that they love very much, I know how important it is to say things before it is too late.”

_Oh Yasha_ , he thought. This woman, this beautiful friend who still had hope in him, like the rest of his new family had hope in him. Even though she knew what he did, what he _did_ to his parents – how _unforgiveable and terrible_ he was – even with that knowledge, she still believed he was deserving of love.

Caleb knew better though. For Jester deserved the world, and Caleb had nothing to give.

“It’s too late, Yasha,” he told her, hating himself for putting her down but wanting desperately to correct her of any foolish thoughts she might have about his chances at love, at a – at a happy ending. “It’s too late.”

_Don’t look,_ he told himself _, don’t look._ He wanted to. If he could, he would shift his gaze just a little to his left and never stop looking at the sleeping tiefling girl, curled up next to Nott and Beau, her blue skin and her blue horns and her beautiful, sweet face a balm to his aching heart.

_Don’t look_. 

“Maybe not, I don’t know.”

It was too much. He reached out to touch Yasha’s hand, her skin warm under his cold fingers, hoping that was enough to let her know how much he appreciated her faith in him. He did not deserve that either.

Caleb turned away after that, unable to meet her eyes nor continue the conversation. He felt raw, exposed, as if someone had cut him open except the wound was his mind and his heart, and it was his emotions that had poured out in place of blood. It pooled around him, disgusting and repulsive, tainting the people around him with its filth. When had Yasha noticed? Had she been there when he had spoken to Jester that evening, the silly hamsters and the rolling unicorns around them, his little gift that he had been secretly learning with her in mind? Or was it before that, when he had smiled at her antics with Essek? Had Yasha known all along – the slow chipping away by Jester of the walls he had so carefully and meticulously built around him with each little trick and giggle and smile of hers?

He made sure to face away from the group as he lay down again. Sleep did not come to him easy, and he felt Yasha’s eyes on him for the remainder of the watch. Part of him felt resentful that she had seen through him and tore through his barriers so unthinkingly; the other part chastised himself for blaming her when the fault lay with him. He had been too complacent, too open. He had berated himself for even deigning to think of Jester in anything but a platonic way, and yet failed to stop himself from continuing to fall headlong in love with her.

And that was it.

He was in love with Jester Lavorre. 

Caleb’s hand clutched his chest. It hurt. It hurt so much.

When he finally did fall asleep, it was a fitful slumber, filled with fire and smoke and _pain_. As he staggered through the endless flaming hellscape, surrounded by the horrors of his past – shadowy figures that clawed at his dirty, ragged clothes and weighed each staggering step down – a voice spoke to him, high and lilting and mischievous, telling him he would be fine if only he would just follow her.

He ignored it and focused on the pain.

It was what he deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> My heart needs a break now.
> 
> Cry with me in the comments or leave a kudo for your tears!


End file.
